


The Dastardly Tattoo

by darth_tr8r



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Dominant Hux, Eventual Smut, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, NSFW, Power Bottom Kylo Ren, Submissive Kylo Ren, Top Hux, punk hux, punk kylo ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_tr8r/pseuds/darth_tr8r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's no surprise that a punk named Kylo Ren would defy his parents and decide to become a tattoo artist like his grandfather, rather than earn a degree in a distinguished art school.  But despite his passionate ambition, he's a little rough around the edges for his first job, and he may prove to be more of a danger to himself than to others.  Perhaps his newfound bond with a ginger-haired coworker might help see him through to his dream...or else shatter it before it's even begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dastardly Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, HUGE THANK YOU to my friend, who is on--> http://grave-eater.tumblr.com , for coming up with the Tattoo Artist AU idea for Kylux, and then allowing me to write this fic on it ;w; (thank my friend please) I absolutely could not resist any opportunity to write Ren and Hux as cool artistic punk boyfriends <333 I intend to make this quite a few chapters, but we'll see uwu Hope you enjoy~

The city was alive today; traffic sped on and people marched from building to building like empire ants. A few bumped past a young man with dark hair, who returned them an unflattering grimace and gripped a printed paper in his hands a little more tightly. He wore a heavy black pleather backpack that pulled at his neck as he looked up at one of the building’s signs.

“Ben.” Kylo Ren winced when he heard that voice above the crowd. He turned and spotted the man that the voice belonged to, standing at a street corner. He hid the paper behind his back, though the man’s eyes were already looking at him accusingly.

“What are you doing here, Han?” Ren shouted.

“Don’t call me that.” was his father’s reply. He was now approaching, stepping carefully across the street. “And I followed you, which wasn’t hard. Don’t think you’ve had us fooled, son...you’re not a little kid anymore, which means you make a hell of a lot of noise sneaking out through the fire escape.” His father was getting closer and Ren felt the urge to run, but he knew he couldn’t; he had already gotten this far, and he wasn’t about to hide. Not anymore.

“Whatever, Dad. You can’t stop me from doing this.” He held up his paper and shook it, wrinkling it some more. “See? I made the effort to write this. And I hate writing, so you know I’m serious.”

Han Solo was close now, reaching a hand out to him. “Please come home, Ben. You’re so talented, even Luke says your abilities far surpass--”

Ren pulled away. “Don’t call me that name!” he yelled, and his father recoiled. “It’s Kylo Ren, now. I’m done hearing you say the same shit over and over, both you and mom. It’s fucking useless.”

Han sighed. The boy was already lost, it seems. What else could be done? He held up his hands and smirked, his smile aloof. “Fine. Go ahead. See if you can even get past the first assessment, bucko. But you will never hear the end of it from your mother. And neither will I.” He turned and walked away, disappearing amongst the crowd.

Ren shook his head. “Asshole,” he muttered. His father probably would never have shown up anyway, if his mother hadn’t sent him. He was sure Han didn’t have a care in the world; though what Ren hated the most was how he pretended that he did. But his father was the furthest from his mind, now. He looked back up at the sign. Imperial Ink was what it said. It was his favorite tattoo parlor, and he planned on applying there. The printed paper in his hands was his resumé, now crumbled from his tightened grip. “Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing the wrinkled paper against his pants, flattening it out only slightly. It had to be enough.

* * *

When Ren entered the parlor, there was no one there to greet him. Not yet. Ren sighed; despite his earlier bout of confidence, he was now terribly nervous. He had come here only three times before, his last visitation being over a year ago. Yet the setting still felt remarkably familiar: the gritty art posters on the walls; the decor’s persistent display of reds and blacks; the hazy lighting. Here felt like home. But here was also one of the best tattoo parlors in the city, and not just anyone could swagger their way in and expect to be hired on the spot.  Luckily, he was ballsy enough the week before to call in for an appointment, so there really was no turning back now. And he certainly did not want to fuck this up. Han Solo’s final taunting words echoed in his mind, filling him with the furious determination he needed to step up to the front counter and ring the bell.

There were stairs behind the counter, and Ren had no clue as to where they led. He only ever went down the hall, which was past the open doorway to the right. He was examining the small bullet-sized holes on the front of the metal-framed counter when he heard footsteps, steady and forceful, heading down those stairs. He looked up into a beautiful pair of icy blue eyes.

“Welcome. Anything I can help you with?” The man before him was pale with tightly-cut ginger hair. His overall appearance was shabby, but it seemed intentional. He radiated authority. Ren felt as though he had met him before.

“I’m here for an interview. I scheduled an appointment a week ago.” Ren spoke the words that he had rehearsed a million times, but they still felt strange on his tongue, even as he maintained direct eye contact with the guy. Professionalism was not really his strongest suit.

The man seemed unfazed by it, though. “Oh. So you’re that guy. Cool. Snoke’s still working on his current client, so. ” He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “What’s with the scarf? Isn’t it a little warm out?”

“What’s with the jacket? You leading a parade?” Ren retorted back, gesturing at the dusty-looking garment that the man wore. He actually thought the jacket was pretty rad, but he couldn’t resist a gripe.

“It’s vintage.” The man sniffed, though he didn’t seem thoroughly ruffled by the remark. “I got it from some thrift store that has all kinds of military stuff.”

“Oh. Cool.” Ren was completely relaxed, by now; as intimidating as he was, this guy had an air about him that diffused the tension he had felt throughout the day, perhaps even throughout the week. He stuffed his resume into his pocket; it appeared he wasn’t going to need it, yet. “So, uh...should I just hang out here until Snoke’s done?”

The man shook his head. “Nahh, it’s going to be a while so I might as well just show you around. My name’s Hux, by the way.” He extended a hand. Ren grasped it firmly, locking eyes with him again.

“Hux…” He said slowly. “Hey, I think I know you. Weren’t you the artist that worked on me the last time I was here?”

Hux tilted his head, looking Ren over as if for the first time. “Oh yeah...Ben, right? You’re the one who barked like a baby after just ten minutes in.” He chuckled. Ren had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from snarling.

“Yes. But it’s Kylo Ren, now. And I most certainly did not.” He snapped, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Hey, no need to get miffed. I was only teasing.” Hux chuckled some more. “I know that shit hurts the most when it’s on the ass. How do you like it, by the way? I’m sure you’ve impressed a lucky girl by now.” He winked and smiled. Ren could feel his face flare up with heat.

“I love it. It’s awesome,” He sputtered. “But no, actually... not yet.” He rarely got embarrassed, but when he did, he absolutely hated it. Especially in front of someone like Hux. He wanted to change the subject. “So anyway...wasn’t your hair longer back then? And brownish.” It really was, he was sure; he remembered the way it fell over the man’s blue eyes. That was probably why he wasn’t able to recognize him.

“Yea. But since then I got a mohawk. And after that, I decided to go natural, so I shaved it all off.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I wish I had seen that mohawk.” Ren could almost imagine Hux with one; the image almost made him smile.

“Yea, it was awesome. But it got tedious to take care of. Anyway...Kylo Ren.” Ren nodded, secretly pleased. “Come around back here. We’re heading up to the studio.” Hux then turned and headed back up the steps. Ren had always wondered what was up there, so he followed with his stomach fluttering in anticipation. But as soon as he caught up to Hux he was momentarily distracted by the close-up view of his arse. The man still had a decent build. Very decent. 

* * *

He was wrenched away from his thoughts when they had reached near the top of the landing, which actually led to a door. Hux turned the handle and swung it open. Ren caught wind of symphonic music, the likes of which he had never heard before.

“It’s Rimsky-Korsakov,” Hux explained, as if he had read his mind. “I like the Russian composers the best...their sound is so fucking robust.” He stepped across the door jamb and held the door open with his arm for Ren to pass.

“It’s alright, I guess. I’m more into the punk and metal stuff,” Ren replied, his tone light. His eyes roamed the studio, which was very vast. It probably covered the entire top of Imperial Ink.

“Ha, me too.” Hux grinned, but he said nothing more. He was observing as the dark-clad young man explored the room, which contained sections of individual drawing stations, complete with chrome drawing desks, stools, and storage cabinets. Hux wasn’t sure at first if the guy was fit for the job; he had a fiery temper, no doubt. But there was something in his eyes that meant more, something hungry. It glinted even now as he sauntered among the drawing desks, running his hand along their metal frames. Hux wasn’t sure if he remembered seeing it in the young man before, when they had first met over a year ago. He had difficulty remembering most clients, one of the many flaws that he wished he could overcome.

“Where is your work area?” Ren asked suddenly, pulling Hux away from his reverie.

“Over here,” Hux replied, walking to his personal drawing desk that was located in a remote corner of the studio. Ren followed him, noticing the pristine neatness of this area in comparison to the others. A lamp shone on its center, and there was a sheet of tracing paper with a single pencil resting beside it. The tracing paper had a light drawing on it, which Hux promptly picked up before Ren could look at it more carefully.

“A work in progress,” Hux sighed, sliding out the top drawer of his filing cabinet and storing the drawing away. Ren watched as he did so, fascinated by the man’s change in demeanor. “I was hoping that it would become one of Imperial Ink’s newest designs, but it still leaves much to be desired.” He opened another drawer and pulled out a hefty sketchpad. Its weight landed heavily on the drawing table. “I’ve kept that sketchbook ever since I first started working here,” Hux said. “I hate looking at my past stuff, but feel free to flip through...” He barely finished his sentence and Ren was already skimming through the first couple of pages.

_Holy shit_. Hux’s sketches were beyond Ren’s comprehension of words; they were so intricately detailed, almost nearing hyper realism. He swallowed hard, clenching his jaw before it could drop, not wanting to give his reaction away. If he felt discouraged before, he certainly felt it tenfold now.

“I’ve been meaning to toss that thing and start fresh. I scrapped most of it, anyway,” Hux said in a resigned tone.

Ren glared at him. “Yea right,” he scoffed, his tone on edge between annoyance and awe. “This is….you’re fucking amazing.” Hux was taken aback by the angry compliment. He smirked in response, though he was secretly pleased.

“So...I showed you mine, how about you show me yours, eh? I’m sure you brought it with you.” Hux gestured at the black pleather backpack that Ren still wore. Ren turned to hide the backpack from view, suddenly defiant.

“Nah.” Ren scowled at him. “I’d rather not, thanks.” His tone came out a little harsher than he intended, but he was too overwhelmed by his own feelings of insecurity to care.

Hux stepped back. “Okay, okay,” he said defensively. “I get it...fine. Maybe another time. Anyway…” He checked his watch. “...let’s see if Snoke’s done, by now. Come on, let’s head back.” Ren followed Hux as he left the studio. He sensed that he had struck a nerve with Hux, and he felt bad, though he wasn’t about to apologize any time soon. He would try to make it up to him. Somehow.


End file.
